Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508699" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ballad Of Soulful Sam</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You want me to tell you a story, a yarn of the firin' line,<br>Of our thin red kharki 'eroes, out there where the bullets whine;<br>Out there where the bombs are bustin',<br>and the cannons like 'ell-doors slam --<br>Just order another drink, boys, and I'll tell you of Soulful Sam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oh, Sam, he was never 'ilarious, though I've 'ad some mates as was wus;<br>He 'adn't C. B. on his programme, he never was known to cuss.<br>For a card or a skirt or a beer-mug he 'adn't a friendly word;<br>But when it came down to Scriptures, say! Wasn't he just a bird!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He always 'ad tracts in his pocket, the which he would haste to present,<br>And though the fellers would use them in ways that they never was meant,<br>I used to read 'em religious, and frequent I've been impressed<br>By some of them bundles of 'oly dope he carried around in his vest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For I -- and oh, 'ow I shudder at the 'orror the word conveys!<br>'Ave been -- let me whisper it 'oarsely -- a gambler 'alf of me days;<br>A gambler, you 'ear -- a gambler. It makes me wishful to weep,<br>And yet 'ow it's true, my brethren! -- I'd rather gamble than sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've gambled the 'ole world over, from Monte Carlo to Maine;<br>From Dawson City to Dover, from San Francisco to Spain.<br>Cards! They 'ave been me ruin. They've taken me pride and me pelf,<br>And when I'd no one to play with -- why, I'd go and I'd play by meself.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Sam 'e would sit and watch me, as I shuffled a greasy deck,<br>And 'e'd say: &quot;You're bound to Perdition,&quot;<br>And I'd answer: &quot;Git off me neck!&quot;<br>And that's 'ow we came to get friendly, though built on a different plan,<br>Me wot's a desprite gambler, 'im sich a good young man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But on to me tale. Just imagine . . . Darkness! The battle-front!<br>The furious 'Uns attackin'! Us ones a-bearin' the brunt!<br>Me crouchin' be'ind a sandbag, tryin' 'ard to keep calm,<br>When I 'ears someone singin' a 'ymn toon; be'old! it is Soulful Sam.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes; right in the crash of the combat, in the fury of flash and flame,<br>'E was shootin' and singin' serenely as if 'e enjoyed the same.<br>And there in the 'eat of the battle, as the 'ordes of demons attacked,<br>He dipped down into 'is tunic, and 'e 'anded me out a tract.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then a star-shell flared, and I read it: Oh, Flee From the Wrath to Come!<br>Nice cheerful subject, I tell yer, when you're 'earin' the bullets 'um.<br>And before I 'ad time to thank 'im, just one of them bits of lead<br>Comes slingin' along in a 'urry, and it 'its my partner. . . . Dead?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No, siree! not by a long sight! For it plugged 'im 'ard on the chest,<br>Just where 'e'd tracts for a army corps stowed away in 'is vest.<br>On its mission of death that bullet 'ustled along, and it caved<br>A 'ole in them tracts to 'is 'ide, boys -- but the life o' me pal was saved.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And there as 'e showed me in triumph, and 'orror was chokin' me breath,<br>On came another bullet on its 'orrible mission of death;<br>On through the night it cavorted, seekin' its 'aven of rest,<br>And it zipped through a crack in the sandbags, and it wolloped me bang on the breast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Was I killed, do you ask? Oh no, boys. Why am I sittin' 'ere<br>Gazin' with mournful vision at a mug long empty of beer?<br>With a throat as dry as a -- oh, thanky! I don't much mind if I do.<br>Beer with a dash of 'ollands, that's my particular brew.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, that was a terrible moment. It 'ammered me 'ard o'er the 'eart;<br>It bowled me down like a nine-pin, and I looked for the gore to start;<br>And I saw in the flash of a moment, in that thunder of hate and strife,<br>Me wretched past like a pitchur -- the sins of a gambler's life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For I 'ad no tracts to save me, to thwart that mad missile's doom;<br>I 'ad no pious pamphlets to 'elp me to cheat the tomb;<br>I 'ad no 'oly leaflets to baffle a bullet's aim;<br>I'd only -- a deck of cards, boys, but . . . it seemed to do just the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508699" data-title="The Ballad Of Soulful Sam de Robert William Service" data-description="You want me to tell you a story, a yarn of the firin' line,
Of our thin red kharki 'eroes, out there where the bullets whine;
Out there where the bombs are bustin',
and the cannons like 'ell-doors slam --
Just order another drink, boys, and I'll t..."></div>
</div>
</div>